It's not fair
by tidbit22
Summary: Ponyboy and Darry try to get through today in two different ways, but both coming to the same conclusion. It's not fair.


I stare at the suit and tie lying across the back of the chair, willing it to burst into flames. I never thought we'd be here again, or at least not this soon. I don't want to go through this again.

I'm cursing whichever important government man thought it would be a good idea to get involved in Vietnam. Cursing the damn draft lottery that never cut greasers a break. Cursing the socs, who only had to produce a bag of money to avoid getting called up.

I'm not doing this, I can't. Not after everyone else, not him too. But me not going wouldn't change the fact that he's dead. He's never coming back no matter how much I cry or scream. He's gone no matter what, and I need to accept it.

I walk into the kitchen, dressed in my clothes. The tie hangs over my right shoulder, untouched. You would think I would know how to put it on after two funerals, but no dice. Darry's leaning against the counter, fully dressed too, watching me.

Even without the absence of plates and cutlery the table, a cup of coffee in his hand, I know we're not eating breakfast. I'm glad knowing I won't be able to hold anything down. I can't throw up at my brother's funeral.

"I'll do your tie." Darry comes over and grabs the tie off my shoulders. I can tell how worried he is, his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at me and his face holds that gentle expression. The one he learned after Soda left. I wish he hadn't had to learn it at all.

I can only nod when he finishes, unable to speak. It's awkward, just the two of us in the kitchen. Normally, we'd be smiling and laughing even with Soda halfway across the world. It was bearable when the letters were coming in. I sit down at the table and dally's advice reverberates in my head. _Get tough like me and nothing can touch you._

—

He hasn't talked since that officer walked through our door. He didn't cry or utter a word. Not a plea or a timid question like when mom and dad died. No screaming matches or breakdowns like after Johnny and Dally. He just sat there in complete silence, it's starting to scare me. I've just lost one brother, I can't lose this one too.

"We just got to get through today." I say, coming to sit next to him. "Everything will get a little easier after today."

I want him to scream at me, tell me nothing will ever be easy without Sodapop. How nothing will ever seem happy without his stupid smile. How the house will feel empty without his never ending energy. I want him to yell and tell me things I already know, but he doesn't. He just sits there and nods.

God, I can't do this. I can't lose him like this, not after Soda. I'm barely hanging on as it is, if I lose him too I will fall. The worst part is, I can control this. He is within my control, my boundaries, I can help him or stop him. I can see the moment he gives up, I didn't get to know Soda had been killed until a week after the fact.

I always thought losing my parents would be the hardest blow, especially since dad was my best friend. That loss hit me right in the gut, knocking the wind out of me and made me wait almost a year to breathe again. This hit ten times as hard. Everyone expects to bury their parents, sure mine were way too early, but no one expects to bury their little brother.

—

_Get tough like me and nothing can touch you._

_Get tough like me and nothing can touch you._

_Get tough like me and nothing can touch you._

It's become a mantra in my head, and it works. The wave that threatened to drown me when we got the news hasn't broken yet, I'm still bone dry.

It's what keeps me upright as I climb into the truck with Darry, squishing into the middle spot right next to him.. There's a brief moment when Darry's face goes white, I don't need to sit in the middle anymore. Normally, Soda would take the front and I'd be kicked into the middle. Force of habit, I suppose. But Soda hasn't been home for nine months, and he'll never be home again.

Today isn't dark and gloomy like when we buried Johnny and Dally. Nope, today the sun shines down on the streets of Tulsa, the sidewalks radiate heat. Today I watch kids play in the park as we drive by. Today is a normal day for the world, but how can it be when such a big portion of my world is gone? I start to feel that familiar cloudiness in my vision. _Get tough like me and nothing can touch you. _It goes away instantly.

The cemetery hasn't changed much, not since the last time I was here. That was maybe a month ago, and I promised everyone I'd come back more often. I'm never going back again.

The service is nice, and I'm glad Darry didn't have to go through the pain of planning another funeral. The military did this, and it's the only thing I'll ever thank them for.

It's when they lower the casket into the ground that my breath hitches. The moment has suddenly became all to real. I can feel myself sway on my feet, but Darry's arm around my shoulders it keeping me upright. "That's not him. Ok kiddo? He's with mom and dad."

And I know he means actual Soda. The Soda who would tease me constantly and wrestle with me whenever he got the chance. The Soda that played the radio way too loud, and somehow still managed to drown it out with his singing. The Soda that would help build me up whenever I crumbled... But all I can think about is how Darry's right, and that Soda isn't in that box. He's still over there, lying dead in a jungle somewhere.

—

I have to keep telling myself that it's not him. That Soda isn't in that casket. That he isn't even dead in a jungle somewhere. I have to keep reminding myself that he gets to see our parents again. He's with them and Johnny and dally.

All I can think of is how young he is.

Was.

My brother will never be "is" again.

As they lower his casket, memories start to play around in my head. A terrified four year old asking if there are monsters under our bed. A buck-toothed seven year old protesting because I threw the football to hard. A ten year old who's to energetic for his own good asking if he can have my baseball cards if I die playing tackle football. That fifteen year old with a quick temper and an even quicker fist getting suspended because someone talked shit about his older brother, and he couldn't have that. An eighteen year old scared stiff, waiting for a bus that would separate him and his brothers forever.

And suddenly the tears are rolling slowly down my face. God, this is so much worse than with mom and dad. So much worse. It wasn't too hard to imagine a world without my parents, but a world without Sodapop? Never thought there'd ever be one.

I look over to see how Ponyboy's doing, expecting at least some tears. Nope. He's just standing there with his fists clenched. I recognize the helpless expression, it's the same one I've worn too many times. And, not for the first time, I don't know how to help him.

—

The house is way too quiet for my liking. We never turned on the tv anymore, too many shots of Vietnam, but we normally had a record going. Today it's just quiet. It's fitting seeing as we just came back from our brothers funeral, but the silence makes it worse. It keeps reminding that Soda's not here to fill it.

I sit down on the couch, sighing. Being like Dallas is a lot harder than I thought, and I suddenly have much more respect for him than I did. I don't know how he managed to go seventeen years on no real emotion. I'm barely making it through five days.

Darry's gone back into his room, but he comes out holding a letter. I notice my name on the envelope, and I stop breathing."I was supposed to give this to you when we were told. It was returned with his stuff… I… I couldn't give it to you right away…. I thought… I was worried."

He takes a deep breath and hands the crumpled, worn paper over to me. "It wouldn't be fair if I kept it from you any longer. It's not fair that I kept it from you in the first place…"

He trails off, and I don't let him finish. I'm too deep in the letter to hear him. My fingers trace over the words tentatively, wondering if they're really his. The handwriting isn't his… but I recognize it. The answer hits me like a ton of bricks, it's Steve's. This isn't the original letter, this is the one not stained with his blood. I'm starting to see the tears swim.

Hey little brother,

I hope to god this letter never makes it into your hands, but I'm smart enough to know I have to write it. I'm real sorry kiddo, I tried as hard as I could to come home. I promise. I tried. I love you so much, Ponyboy. Don't ever forget that, ok? I love you and I am so sorry baby. So so sorry you have to go through this again. Just don't worry about me, ok? I'm with mom and dad, Johnny and Dallas. I'm gonna tell em all about how uncivilized we've become and how Darry let's us eat chocolate cake for breakfast. Man, mom'll flip. I'm gonna tell dad about how strict Darry can be sometimes, but also how great he is at filling their shoes. I promise to tell everyone you say hi, and that you miss and love them. Though, I'm sure they already know. Now that I've said all that, I want you to promise me something kiddo. I want you to promise me you won't stop living. Promise you won't just shut off and stop being you. I couldn't handle knowing I was the cause of that. So please promise me? The world needs more of you, not less. Take care of Darry for me, alright? And try not to kill each other, I'm not there to play referee anymore. And you better get into college and stay there or, so help me god, I'll come down and haunt you kid. As a full time student you'll avoid the draft, if the wars still going. I want you to know that I'll always be with you, ok? I'll be there every dumb mistake, triumph, breakdown, or whatever else. I'm never leaving you. I love you so much. So, so much. Don't you ever forget it, alright? I know I'm repeating myself, but still. I love you, and I wish I could've seen you grow up a little more. Main point is that I love you, and that I always will. And no matter how old you get, and besides the fact that I'll be forever 18, you will always be my baby brother.

Forever your loving brother,

Sodapop Curtis

I reread it again and again, taking in his words. _Don't stop living, don't just shut off. The world needs more of you. _It reminded me so much of Johnny's last words. _Stay Gold. _

I had done exactly what he didn't want, I shut off everything. But I promised Johnny I would stay gold. Now, I'm promising Sodapop I wouldn't just fade away. I have to stay me, for him.

I get to the part about mom and dad, and tried to laugh. It was actually kind of funny, he was that mom would flip out if she found out about chocolate cake for breakfast. I can't laugh though, It comes out as more of a strangled sob.

My Vision's clouding more and more as I make my way through the letter. I can feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks, feel like I need more and more air to breathe. At forever your loving brother, the wave has crashes.

—

He drops the letter on the coffee table, and sobs into his hands. For a minute I just stand there, making sure what I'm seeing isn't real. He hasn't shown any emotion in five days, I have a right to be a little surprised.

I slowly sit down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. It's the sign he needs because he immediately wraps his arms around me. Crying so hard that he's having trouble breathing. I push him off of me gently, "Hey, deep breaths ok? Deep breaths?"

It calms him down to the point of being able to breathe again, but he's still crying. I bring him back into the hug, holding him as tight as I can. I don't know what that letter said, but I'm forever grateful to Sodapop. Even though he's gone, he can still help his kid brother.

"it's… It's not… f.. fair." He's right, it's not. The world is an unfair place, but it seems to be picking on us the last few years. I would normally tell him that, tell him we can get through him there's no use in complaining. Not today. Today he gets to complain all it wants.

"I know baby. It's not." I rub the back of his head softly. "It's not fair that this keeps happening. It's not fair that you've lost five of the most influential people in your life in three years. It's not fair that you've had to grow up without mom and dad. It's not fair that you had to watch Soda leave, knowing you couldn't stop it. It's not fair that you've had to go through all this at sixteen."

I stop and take a breath. "And I'm sorry about all of it. No one deserves this, especially not you. Especially not you. I'm sorry baby."

We sit there for what feels like hours, just holding onto each other. At some point we must've fallen asleep because I wake up on the couch, nothing it's dark outside. Ponyboy's still asleep on top of me, and I smile fondly. He looks a lot like Sodapop, almost identical if not for his hair.

I know he's asleep and can't hear me, but I can't help myself. I push his hair back gently and lean close to his ear. "I love you kid. Don't forget that."

The world isn't fair, but that's why I know he's going to go out and change it.


End file.
